


Battle Shouting

by medaeus (medivhthecorrupted)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars - Alternate Universe, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medivhthecorrupted/pseuds/medaeus
Summary: Count Dooku has a conversation with his former padawan in the middle of a battle between the Republic and the Separatists.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	Battle Shouting

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to an ask sent to obiwanobi on Tumblr: "they are totally arguing and bickering from the two opposite lines of the war because it's the funniest thing ever like there is a mess of droids and clone fighting up on the ground and then you have two sith/jedi masters howling at each other through the force to cover the noise "you had at least FIVE BILLIONS OCCASIONS to introduce me to your padawan and you tell me YOU FORGOT" "excuse me i would have said something if i wasnt distracted by how horrid your tea and cookies are" "QUI GON"

Normally he would not get involved in the battles, preferring to leave the fighting to the droids and the commander he put in charge. It wasn’t that he was a coward or that he was just too old to fight (he was fully capable of trouncing the Republic forces if he seriously wanted to), but rather he was a political figure far too important to the Separatist cause to take unnecessary risks, like fighting alongside his armies. There was also the matter of his master more than likely being displeased with him if he got injured or, Force forbid, killed before the Grand Plan could be executed in its entirety.

So, when he felt that warm and oh so too familiar presence in the Force approaching the battlefield, the regal Separatist leader found himself conflicted with every emotion he felt pertaining to his former padawan. He had heard a decade prior that his student had been injured and comatose after a confrontation with his predecessor on Naboo, but had nearly given up hope after a couple years of the younger Jedi ever waking up. To suddenly feel his presence again gave him a breath of hope and a sliver of frozen fear all at the same time.

A part of him wanted to recall his army to spare his student of having to fight his way to victory. He was willing to let the Republic have this Force-forsaken hell hole of a world to protect the man; but he knew that if he did, he would have to deal with the consequences of his master’s ire afterward. That was a conversation he did not want to ever face. So, the fear of Sidious’ wrath kept him from following what his heart wanted.

That did not, however, mean he could not confront his student on the battlefield.

“There are Jedi leading the clone army, sir,” the electronic voice of a B-1 battle droid intruded upon his thoughts. “Two of them.” Count Dooku stole a glance at the droid and then snatched the macrobinoculars from the machine so he could take a look for himself. He ignored the indignant exclamation of surprise from the droid as he adjusted the zoom and scanned along the enemy lines until he spotted the familiar green and blue blades of Jedi hacking their way through his droids with the ease of one slicing butter with a knife.

The Sith did not lower the macros immediately, wanting to study the Jedi wielding the green blade. For a man who had spent a decade in a coma, he looked rather well. He wondered when Qui-Gon had awoken and suspected he had been awake for at least a year. That would put it right about the beginning of the war. It also explained why Skywalker seemed a lot calmer and more collected these last few months as well. His former student was guiding the young brat away from his master’s influence.

 _Explains Sidious’ temperament lately as well_ , he silently pondered and lowered the macrobionoculars. He handed the device back to the B-1 battle droid and took a couple steps forward. “Commander,” he began while his mind raced on how he can best protect Qui-Gon and still achieve his master’s goal here. “There is a Jedi on the field that interests me and that I want alive. No harm is to come to the Jedi with the green lightsaber, but do not let him advance.”

“Uh… how do we do that without harming him?” the battle droid questioned perplexedly.

“Leave that to me.”

“Roger, roger.” He was certain the machine still doubted that the order could be carried out as instructed, but Dooku did not care if it believed it or not. The droid would obey regardless, and the army would do its best to avoid the targeted Jedi. All he had to do was make sure Qui-Gon was well distracted so he wouldn’t take advantage of his attachment for him.

Quietly he reached for the curved lightsaber at his belt and descended the short, stone steps of the ruins his command center was holed up in. With a snap hiss, the crimson blade ignited and hummed ominously at his side and he focused on the familiar sound to reach into the Force and center himself for combat. It had been a long time since he had seen real combat that wasn’t a duel with the Jedi or failed Sith apprentices. He detested this kind of fighting, finding it lacking in honor and feeling far too impersonal. It was the old duelist in him, he supposed.

But despite all his displeasure to the violence around him, he was no stranger to it and was fully capable of allowing himself be swept away in the horrific dance of skirmishes and war, the Force flowing through him and warning him where danger was and where he should be. Fully immersed in the Force, Dooku approached and reached out in search of where the Republic forces were hindering his army’s advancement while also seeking out the familiar presence of his former padawan.

He sought the old training bond and found himself surprised that it was still there, a thin thread so frayed that he could easily snap it if either of them dared to bother to do so. Dooku refused to touch it even as he brushed against the warm and brilliant light that shone so brightly at the other end. He felt a flicker of confusion and surprise before the presence returned the gesture questioningly and very worried.

He should not have felt the sentiment of longing after that, but it flooded upward from whatever cesspit he had buried his emotions in before he could stop himself. Fearing he might do something stupid and reckless, Dooku withdrew and returned his attention to the threats before him. The battle droids parted before him and closed around behind him again, making it seem like a dangerous predator was lurking beneath the sea of battle droids.

He soon reached the frontline as the last of the droids stepped out of his way, giving him a clear view of the clonetroopers that were stubbornly holding their ground near another set of ruins. It did not take them long to notice his presence and his lightsaber was swiftly and precisely dancing in front of him, deflecting blaster fire away from his person.

Dooku soon came upon the clones with merciless dexterity, their dying screams and cries for help silenced with a stab or slash of his red blade.

“SERIOUSLY?”

With a start, the former Jedi Master looked up from the dying clone as the soldier slid off of his lightsaber and into a lifeless heap of flesh and plastiarmor. The Force projected voice of his padawan had been unexpected but pleased him, nonetheless. He had Qui-Gon’s attention and so, as he moved down the line of clones, Dooku decided to reply, projecting his voice in the same manner as his former student; “YES, PADAWAN?”

“DON’T PADAWAN ME, _MASTER_.”

A small, pleased smile graced his lips, the head of a clonetrooper flying off to the side as he did. It probably made him look maniacal to the soldiers. He did not care. His attention was on Qui-Gon even as he created a pile of bodies around him.

“NOW, NOW. HOW ELSE WAS I TO GET YOUR ATTENTION?”

“A HOLOCOMM CALL WOULD HAVE SUFFICED!”

“WOULD YOU HAVE ANSWERED?”

“PROBABLY NOT.”

“SEE MY PREDICTAMENT? EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT, PADAWAN.”

A blaster bolt had zipped past his head and Dooku slowly turned toward the clonetrooper that almost won the war for them. The clone’s blaster rifle lowered a fraction in combined hesitation and fear at the sight of the Confederate leader staring him down with a raised eyebrow, “It is rude to interrupt someone’s conversation trooper. I thought the Kaminoans taught you better.” A flick of his weaponless hand and the clone went sailing over the battlefield with a terrified scream.

“WHERE WERE WE? OH YES. PADAWAN, EXPLAIN TO ME WHY YOU NEVER INTRODUCED ME TO YOUR PADAWAN.”

“YOU ARE ASKING ME THAT NOW OF ALL PLACES?”

“I WILL NOT HAVE ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY TO DO SO. NOW EXPLAIN.”

Silence fell between the two as Dooku waited for his student’s answer. He had a brief moment to scan the Republic lines for Qui-Gon before more clones would try to descend upon him. He didn’t see the familiar viridian green blade or the tall figure of his student, but he knew the man was somewhere east of him. He would feel that brilliant presence in the Force no matter where he was on the planet.

“I FORGOT TO.” He could hear the sheepish guilt in the answer and Dooku was reminded of the tall, lanky padawan he had raised and taught. He could almost imagine the Jedi Master standing in the middle of a bunch of battle droids, casting his head down guiltily as he admitted to him his fault. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time at how utterly ridiculous the true reason was. It was so very much like Qui-Gon to forget to do something as simple as arranging a meeting between his padawan and his master.

“YOU HAVE HAD PLENTY OF OPPORTUNITIES TO INTRODUCE ME AND YOU ARE TELLING ME THAT YOU FORGOT?!” He was highly amused, and it projected along with his words.

“YES, WELL, YOU WEREN’T EXACTLY AT THE TEMPLE ANYMORE,” came the indignant reply, but Dooku could tell that Qui-Gon wasn’t upset. “SOMETHING ABOUT SUDDENLY RETIRING ON SERENNO AND BECOMING A COUNT.”

“DON’T YOU PUT THIS ON ME, PADAWAN. YOU COULD HAVE TAKEN A DAY OR TWO TO COME VISIT ME. WHY DIDN’T YOU EVER VISIT ME?”

“DIDN’T WANT TO BE RUDE.”

“ABOUT WHAT?”

“YOU WOULD HAVE SERVED THAT HORRID TEA AND COOKIES YOU LIKED SO MUCH.”

“QUI-GON!”

“ITS TRUE!”

The Sith paused and blinked, a clonetrooper choking in the invisible grip of a Force choke in front of him. “My tea is not horrible, and those cookies were good,” he huffed and tossed the dead trooper aside.

“JOCASTA MADE THOSE COOKIES!”

“SHE DID? I NEVER KNEW!”

“I AM GOING TO SEND A LETTER TO HER TELLING HER WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT HER BAKING!”

“PLEASE DON’T. SHE WON’T LET ME INTO THE ARCHIVES THEN!”

“YOU DESERVE IT, BRAT.”

A third voice suddenly intruded into their conversation, “IF YOU TWO ARE DONE BICKERING LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE, CAN WE PLEASE FINISH THIS BATTLE FIRST AND _THEN_ YOU CAN HAVE TEA AND MADAME NU’S COOKIES!?”

“OBI-WAN!”

“MASTER KENOBI!”


End file.
